The Lonely Ones
by Belladonna1185
Summary: Harry's finally reached the breaking point and does something drastic/ Snape stumbles upon his worst nightmare and it rocks him to the core. The same night from two different POVs. OoC behavior. Dark themes. HP/SS
1. The Boy

**A/N: I don't know why but this was rattling in my brain tonight. I'm not sure... but I think this may turn into something longer. I feel it pulling at me to write more. It's defiantly dark for me. If you have the time or the inclination, please drop me a review. I really really would like feedback on this one. Seriously.**

**Thanks guys!**

**Belladonna**

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><p><strong>The<strong>** Lonely Ones**

A gaunt, pale boy stood alone. His once brilliant emerald eyes, now murky and lifeless, scanned the sorrowful reflection before him. Months of little to no sleep and barely eating had taken its toll on his small frame. He couldn't close his eyes now with out being transported back to the hellish scenes of his nightly dreams. Bodies littering the ground, soaking the grass with the blood of the innocent and the guilty alike. He couldn't shake them. Like ghosts, they haunted his every waking moment.

He tried to pretend, for the sake of others. He tried to be strong. To be The Chosen One.

It was all too much. Never having more than a fleeting brush of happiness wasn't enough to sustain his soul. He'd been dying since he was born. Each day chipping away at the fabric of his spirit. People asked too much of him!

How can a 16 year old boy be the savior of millions?

How could people think that he wanted this? The fame.

The infamy more like it.

No one truly understood. How could they? They thought he had grown up in the lap of luxury.

He shuddered as he recalled the club-like hands of his uncle pounding in to his fragile body day after day. How he had managed to make it to eleven with his sanity intact, he would never know. He couldn't quite say that it still was solid though. Years of fighting Tom had broken something within him. He was always inside his mind, whispering, yelling, taunting. Pulling at his defenses. Twisting him in knots. Suggesting...

Laughing.

School didn't help to distract either. The whispers. Was he the savior or the sinner. One minute revered, envied. The next despised, and outcast. Even his so called best friend abandoned him. Oh he apologized later. So desperate to have the connection, to have a companion, he took him back. Forgave. Was the better man. All he ever wanted was to live in peace. Be a normal wizard. Have parents. Have people to truly love him.

A tear rolled down his sunken cheek.

He was filled with such bitterness. No one knew. No one cared to know. It hurt so much to be rejected. Just when he would finally feel cared for, they turned on him. Harassed him. People's words mattered. Malfoy was the worst.

The _never ending_ harassment from Malfoy. Oh, he acted tough;spouted it right back to him. But no one ever saw him cry afterwards. He always ran to the girls bathroom. Crumbled into a heap on the cold, unforgiving tile floor. For hours he would huddle into himself, desperately trying to reassemble the facade. The only one who saw was Moaning Myrtle, but she let him be.

That's where he was now. He had just wanted to walk the halls, try to keep the demons at bay. He didn't know how he had ended up here. He didn't know how he had managed to not encounter Snape. The man stalked the halls about as much as he did these days.

Barely managing a smirk he was glad the invisibility cloak had its uses. He turned the faucet.

The voices, the images blazed through his mind once more.

No! He..he couldn't deal anymore. It was too much. Too much. He began to sob. It was the final straw. He saw a little girl, no more than five lying lifeless on the ground. Teddy bear in hand. A tear of blood rolling down her cheek. Then the laughter. Always the laughter.

He picked up his wand.

They would have to find themselves a new savior.


	2. The Savior

**A/N: Please review if you have the time. Thanks!**

**Belladonna**

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><p><strong>The Lonely Ones<strong>

He could feel that something was...off tonight.

A dread crept through the corridors, down the stairs. Hovered in the air. Something was going to happen on this night. Something important, something horrible, something that would change the course of all their futures. While never putting stock into Proficiency or Divination, for they were something for the untalented hacks in the wizarding community to latch onto, he knew that if he ignored this feeling...all would be lost.

The night compelled him to patrol longer. Each step taking him down a unseen path towards the unknown.

Suddenly, sobs assaulted his ears. His chest clenched at the sound. The discordant melody wrenched at his heart. Ah the despair in that voice! It serenaded him, a tune so familiar to the one in his own soul. Ebony robes billowing, played a twisted counterpoint as he rushed to the source of the bitter music. He was lead to the door of the second floor girl's room.

Silence.

Terror enveloped him. Bursting through the doors, he saw his worst nightmare come true.

Lily's son, looking like no more than a rag doll carelessly tossed by a child, bleeding on the old stone tiles. His mind refused to accept the macabre image. He had spent his life trying to protect him, only to be thwarted by the boy himself. How could he have done this? How? How? What was... how?

A girl's scream thrust him into action.

Collapsing to the floor, ignoring the dead girls wailing, he murmured a spell to seal the wounds. The boy would always carry the scars. Two more to add to the collection...if he lived. And he would live. He had too. He had too. He had made a promise and by Merlin he was going to keep it.

Cradling tenderly the feather weight body in his arms, he ran from the bathroom, down the hall, to the dungeons. He had never been so swift, so sure footed. It was superhuman. But he had to, could do. He had to get his potions. He was going to save him. He was. Heart battering his chest, he shouted the password to his rooms and laid the boy on his dining table.

Rushing, fumbling, he pulled shining liquids from the cabinet. Gone in an instant. He prayed, he actually prayed that the boy would, could be roused.

The ticking of the clock taunted him.

_tick. you're. tick. too. tick. late. tick. you're. tick. too. tick. late._

He couldn't accept. He couldn't. The boy would stir. He would. He would. Merlin, please.

Tears welled, swelled from the man whose heart was thought to be stone. He hadn't cried in years. Since Lily. He pulled the boy tighter to his chest. No. He couldn't lose them both. He couldn't be too late again. He couldn't. It broke him the first time. Shattered his already fractured soul. He couldn't bare to think what losing the son would do.

A small gasp.

Frantic jade eyes. Unfocused, panicked.

He rocked the boy, sighing, purging, weeping out his relief, making promises to any deity who would listen. He would do anything to pay this debt back.

He was alive. Harry was alive.


End file.
